


Vinculum Futurum

by rivetingiknow



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Mental Institutions, borderline dubcon, no time travel, tomione au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-27
Updated: 2012-12-27
Packaged: 2017-11-22 15:49:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,658
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/611514
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rivetingiknow/pseuds/rivetingiknow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I can feel it, your aura. You're a witch." His words made the hairs on her neck stand on end and she opened her mouth to contradict him but he surprised her by grabbing her hand; she felt the familiar crackle of magical exchange pass through her. "Give in to me, Hermione, and I'll get you out of here." AU TOMIONE</p><p>2012 Secret Santa Tomione Fic Exchange - gift for Maddie</p>
            </blockquote>





	Vinculum Futurum

**Author's Note:**

  * For [uchiha_s](https://archiveofourown.org/users/uchiha_s/gifts), [Tomione_Forum](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tomione_Forum/gifts).



VINCULUM FUTURUM

for Maddie

 

She had dreamt about a horse again. This one was the same as the ones before: strong and handsome, a sturdy Clydesdale with a gentle disposition. Well, gentle before he had tossed her off his back and startled her awake. Bolt upright now in her itchy cot in her dark, bare room, Hermione Granger tried to steady her breathing. _It was just a dream. Don’t be stupid. It was just a dream._ Except with the dream came memories-terrible ones. No matter how much she shook her head, with its frizzy brown hair, or screwed up her brown eyes to keep them from invading, that balmy August evening somehow managed to worm its way into her brain. Her father had promised her then to take her round to the Templeton family’s farm the next day to begin horseback riding lessons. Hermione had always loved horses but her stepmother, Genevieve, refused Hermione permission to ever own one. She, Genevieve, had even rowed about it with Hermione’s father the night before Hermione found him dead in his bed.

“Am I to pay some farmhand to tend to her beast while she’s off gallivanting Godric knows where?” the disparaging woman screeched after Hermione had asked for more than just the lessons. She never thought Hermione to be very responsible, in spite of the fact that Hermione had been named Head Girl at Hogwarts for the new school year and was an exceptional student. “No, Augustus. We have enough going on with, what with the manor upkeep and your _illness._ ”

His _illness_. Oooh that fat old toad **would** use that as a crutch! Hermione’s father hadn’t been _ill_. Just because he wasn’t able to do magic like Hermione and Genevieve didn’t equate to his being sick!

Augustus Granger had simply been a squib.

But an illness it may as well have been, for it would prove to be his downfall. Learning that her husband wasn’t magically inclined had devastated Genevieve and, out of fear for her social standing should the wrong person find out (the Grangers were a prominent family due to their wealth, and managed to keep Mr. Granger’s blood status hush hush with large donations to the Ministry), she spent many years planning her husband’s death. Evidently arguing about Hermione having a horse had proved to be the last straw because that night, Genevieve snapped. While the house slept, the crazy old bat performed the killing curse on her husband using Hermione’s wand, ultimately framing her.

_Two birds with one stone._

The murder of a well-liked man by his seemingly perfect daughter had riveted the wizarding community. No one could quite believe the Granger girl would do something so horrific. Where was the motive? The pair had always seemed to get on so well!

“Hermione fancied freedom,” Genevieve lamented to The Daily Prophet in an exclusive interview a few weeks after Hermione’s arrest. “Being 17 and under her father’s thumb still was something that was very difficult for her. Mr. Granger was a stern father and husband, you see, which is why I requested leniency during her sentencing. She’s already suffered so much and Azkaban is no place for a girl like her.”

And so Hermione had avoided Azkaban because her father had been “stern” (which wasn’t true). The Wizengamot sentenced her to relinquish her wand, banned her from the wizarding world for life and explicitly forbade her from speaking about her time as a witch, as well as 20 years in a muggle mental facility called Road’s End. 

 _A muggle mental facility_ , _far away from my magic_ , _leaving me stuck. As if **I’m** the risk,_ she thought bitterly as she swung her bare feet off the side of her cot. They connected with the chill of the concrete floor as she stood, and she shivered in spite of herself.

“You should ask your nurse for socks, I’m sure she’d oblige,” came a soft male voice from one of the dark room’s corners.

Hermione gasped but the shock of finding out she wasn’t alone wore off quickly and was replaced by a sense of overwhelming dread as she realized she recognized the voice’s owner.

“How did you get in this time, Tom?” she asked wearily, crossing her arms across her chest. Tom Riddle was also a patient at Road’s End and had taken to giving Hermione unwanted attention by sneaking into her private room at night for “chats”. She wished he would bugger off.  Oh, he was handsome enough, with smart, aristocratic features and wild black curls that would look much better if they were sleeked back with pomade. His eyes, though, were a bit off. They were hollow and grey and gave a whole new meaning to the term “if looks could kill”. Perhaps in another life, in another place, Tom’s advances would be welcomed or at least entertained, but here between chipped walls and cold floors lined with scratchy cots and nurses distributing mood stabilizers, Hermione just wanted to be left alone.

“I snuck in behind Nurse Waxler while she was doing lights out,” Tom said calmly, striding towards her. “Her old age prevents her from being as perceptive as she once was, it was really quite simple.” He was much too close now and Hermione stiffened against the wall she had backed herself into. It wasn’t normal for her to be this afraid. She was, after all, a gallant Gryffindor, but Tom, unlike her, had actually killed his father. He had been given a lesser sentence the same as she, mostly due to the fact he was so young, only 17. But he was still a killer all the same so she felt her fear was perfectly justified, especially now that they were practically nose to nose, his hands resting on the wall on either side of her head.

_Godric, I’d give anything to have my wand right now. I’d give anything to be able to even **threaten** to use my wand and magic._

“Tom, y-you should p-probably go before Waxler checks in on me and we both lose our afternoon privileges. P-Please.” Her voice was pleading and she flattened herself further against the peeling wall, as though trying to melt into it. Tom, however, merely chuckled. 

“Leave? I can’t leave. Not yet, not without you. Tonight’s the night. You will not convince me to go.” He dropped his hands from beside her head and she stared at him, her eyebrows knit together in confusion.

_Tonight’s the night? What did that mean?_

Tom backed several paces away from her and continued to talk, his face now rather serious. “Dear Hermione, you think I don’t know how uncomfortable our meetings make you? Of course I do! But you’re clever! Did you ever reason with yourself that there might be an explanation? I’ve been gauging you for quite some time to see if my inclinations about you were true, and I’m finally sure that they are. I’m not interested in a romance; I’m interested in _what you can do._ Take a look around, this is hardly the place to start any kind of relationship! I need _you_ , Hermione, for reasons beyond what your simple female mind can reach on its own, and you need me.”

“My mind isn’t simple and I don’t need-!“

“Yes, you do,” he interrupted without missing a beat. “And do you know why? Because I _know_. I know all about you, about who you are, what you are. I can feel it, your aura. You’re a witch.”

His words made the hairs on her neck stand on end and she opened her mouth to contradict him but he surprised her by grabbing her hand; she felt the familiar crackle of magical exchange pass through her.

"Give in to me, Hermione, and I'll get you out of here."

Her throat suddenly felt very dry and her first instinct was to pull away from Tom and run. If she caused a scene, if she alerted the nurses to his having snuck into her room, he might end up on lockdown and then…

 _And then none of your questions would be answered_ , a small voice reasoned. Because no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t ignore the flow of magic she had felt when he had grabbed her hand. It had been the most exhilarating sensation, almost as if she had her own magic back. But it wasn’t possible!  

_Unless_

Unless Tom were exceptionally powerful, because he, too, was-

“Magic,” he said, interrupting her inner dialogue. “Yes, Hermione. As I said, you need me, and I need you.” He had let go of her hand and was pacing in front of her now. “We were both stripped of our wands and sent here instead of Azkaban, but neither of us belongs behind these walls. You, because you’re innocent-“ Hermione raised an eyebrow, wondering how he knew she was innocent, but he didn’t notice ”-and me, well, I can’t…flourish here,” he indicated around the room with his hands. ”Though my magic is still strong because _I_ am strong, I cannot draw it out of me properly without a source to surge it through.” He stopped in front of her and gazed at her intently. The moonlight from outside danced in through the room’s only small window and onto Tom’s features. His once hollow eyes were now lit with a deep need. “But I **can** get us out, with your help.”

“How?” she asked, her voice very small.

“ _Vinculum Futurum_.”

“Vinculum Futurum?”

“It’s an old incantation that was popular during the Witch Hunts,” he answered, resuming his pacing.” Despite what Hogwarts teaches you-yes, I know all about Hogwarts-cases like Wendelin the Weird were actually quite rare. When real witches and wizard were captured, they were often without their wands because filthy muggles would sneak in in the dead of night to arrest them.” The malice in his voice was difficult to miss. “Imprisonment in that way-and in this way-greatly suppresses one’s magic, making it difficult to perform even wandlessly. But Vinculum Futurum works around that. When two magical beings bond themselves to each other, it creates an open source, allowing each of their magic to move freely between them at its full potential. It would be as if we had our wands back for a spot of time. Witches and wizards in those days used the advantage of their temporarily restored magic to free themselves, and so will we.”

Hermione bit her bottom lip thoughtfully. She had read about similar incantations and rituals but had never deemed them worth her while to research further, which she now fully regretted. “When you say ‘bond themselves to each other’, do you mean…”

“Intimately? Yes.”

Hermione blushed furiously. She had never been intimate with anyone and right here, in this way, with _Tom Riddle,_ was not exactly how she thought her first time would be like. In her daydreams, she saw a soft bed in a romantically lit bedroom. There would be sweet kisses and playful nips and pleasure and peace. In this reality, the beds weren’t soft, the lighting was poor, and Tom didn’t seem the type to set an easy pace or to care about her pleasure or peace.

“Why would you help me?” she asked somewhat accusingly. “You know nothing about me to try and get me out of here. Better yet, how do I know that once I agree, you won’t take off and leave me behind?”

Tom smirked. “ONCE you agree, dear Hermione? It seems as though your mind is already made up. But you can trust me because a man gives a lady his word. I cannot do this alone. A tiny sacrifice for a lifetime of freedom, this is my promise. Do you agree?” He held out his hand and she hesitated to take it. She didn’t think her sacrifice would be very tiny, but she took his hand anyway, too focused on the promise of freedom to care. The contact created a new resurgence of magic between them and she began to feel as if she had just signed a contract.

“I agree. Please, let’s get this over with before the night nurse comes or I change my mind.”

She started feverishly unbuttoning her dressing gown and Tom watched interestedly for a moment before moving away. Hermione hadn’t noticed, or else she would have braced herself, because a few seconds later, he was grabbing her wrists from behind her and pinning them down to her sides.

“No,” he whispered roughly, leaning into her ear. His breath felt hot against her neck and she felt her pulse began to quicken. “We’ll do this _my_ way. My game, my rules.” Her stomach swooped uncomfortably and she instantly regretted not fleeing earlier to the nurse’s station to report him in her room. But she knew it was too late now; even if he hadn’t had her in her grip, something told her she was bound by her agreement to follow through. She was about to fuck a cold-blooded killer for the promise of freedom.

Hermione Granger began to cry.

Tom sighed from behind her and released her wrists. “Hermione, Hermione, you _agreed_ to this,” he said calmly, moving around to face her.

“I know, I know! But I’ve…I’ve never done this! I’ve never been with a man this way and these circumstances are hardly ideal!” She sat down on her cot and wiped at her eyes. She wished wholeheartedly that the floor would somehow open and swallow her up, that’d be pleasant and quick.

 It wasn’t that she felt _humiliated_ , really; it was that the idea of _Tom Riddle_ inside of her made her nervous and, admittedly, angry.

Tom sat on his knees in front of her and began to rub her bare calves up and down, slowly working his way to her thighs. She sighed at his touch and relented that he would be taking her, no matter how much she cried. He smiled knowingly.

“Yes, best to just give in, dear Hermione. I promise to be as gentle as I can at first, given your…condition. But-“ his eyes started to darken-“once I break through the barrier, once I get you used to me, your body is mine to command. Vinculum Futurum responds to the pace and the need. The harder I drive into you, the better chance it has of working.” Hermione sat stony faced and didn’t say a word but nodded that she understood. “Good, now lay back.”

Hermione complied and Tom began to raise the hem of her dressing gown: over her thighs, the top of her knickers, her stomach. He noticed that, though she was thin, she had a womanly softness to her and he felt himself begin to harden. Normally he’d wax cold over his feelings of urgency for a woman’s body but Hermione was right; they needed to hurry before they were caught.

He pulled apart her thighs and began to trace a finger along the standard cotton of her underwear, where he knew her slit would be. She shuddered slightly but otherwise gave no indication she was paying attention to what he was doing.

 _We’ll see,_ he thought wryly.

He slipped his fingers underneath the waistband of her knickers and began to pull them down, past her thighs, her knees, her ankles, until finally they were off. Hermione’s blush seemed to travel on endlessly. Her most intimate parts were being revealed to a man for the first time and, for some  stupid reason, she found herself hoping Tom wouldn’t be disappointed by her.

He wasn’t.

He appreciated the curly patch of dark hair covering her slightly puffed up lips and, using his fingers to pry them apart to expose her further, just how pink and small she was. He felt himself grow hungry at the sight of her tiny clit and, noticing that she wasn’t nearly wet enough, he decided to sate himself.

The moment his mouth connected with her, Hermione let out an audible gasp and sat up straight.

“What are you doing?!” she cried.

Tom stopped and looked up at her. “Do you want to draw attention to us by screeching every time I touch you? I’m creating the need. This won’t work unless I make you want me in **some** way. There cannot be a bond if everything is forced and not enjoyed. I could take you right now but you would sustain a significant amount of damage, rendering Vinculum Futurum useless.”

Hermione said nothing, just laid her head back against her cot and opened her legs further to show that she was willing to quietly comply. She knew freedom often came with a price and this was its payment.

Tom sank back into the darkness between her thighs and placed his mouth on her again, using the flat of his tongue to lap at her opening and suck at her small bud. Hermione suddenly felt a tight need coiling in the pit of her stomach and before she could stop it, a tiny moan escaped her throat. She began to push down onto his mouth, encouraging him.

 _Oh god, what the hell am I doing?_ she thought.

 Tom grinned smugly at her reaction. Man he was, it did something for him to see a woman react to his touch and he knew, without knowing how he knew, that he had Hermione Granger in the palm of his hands. She would help see them through this.

He quickened his tongue’s pace against her clit, making her small moans more frequent, and then-without warning-he slid a finger into her opening, making her gasp. Her walls were tight around it and for the first time, he began to appreciate what she had said: she really HADN’T ever been with a man.

He began to move his finger in and out of her, keeping in pace with his mouth. Her hips rolled above him and her hands searched out something to grip, settling on his hair. He could feel her need now, taste it even, but he didn’t slow. Instead he added a second finger, then three, until he was certain she was close to climax. And then he stopped.  He stood up, hovering over her, and began to undress himself. Hermione, realizing it was time to create the “open source”, followed his lead and lifted her dressing gown-the only thing she was still clad in-up over her head.  Then she laid back against the cot, resting her upper body on her elbows, and took in his nude form.

She was surprised by how fit he was. He was lean and toned in all the right places. His arousal was also apparent. She wondered worriedly how his length was going to fit in her. If he noticed her studying him, he gave no indication of it; instead, he spoke.

“This isn’t going to be as…pleasurable…as what we just did,” he whispered, lowering himself over her and positioning between her legs. “At least not for you, but there’s nothing that can be done about that right now.”  He grabbed his hard length and placed it at her opening. “Keep your eyes on me, Hermione. It’s essential you obey this.”

“Okay,” she choked out, barely breathing. It didn’t occur to her to disobey, not when he pushed himself into her slowly while reciting the incantation in hushed tones, not when she felt him break past her barrier, not even when she felt the tears prick at her eyes because of the pain. She kept her gaze locked on his and soon they were moving together in a somewhat comfortable rhythm, her body becoming adjusted to the invasion.

At first, she didn’t feel the sensation of her magic returning. Was this a joke? Did Tom Riddle trick her into bed? Did the spell not work? But then it became apparent, crackling like a dry heat from their connected cores. Tom quickened his pace and the harder he drove into her, the more the crackling intensified until finally she found her orgasm. Her walls tightened around Tom and his breath caught in his throat; he soon met her over the edge. He leaned into her neck to catch his breath.

“Do you think it worked?” she panted.

Removing himself from her, he looked down at the mess their bodies had made.

“Let’s find out,” he said, sounding hopeful. “Scourgify.” And just like that, they and the cot were clean. Tom smiled hugely and began to put his clothes back on. He indicated for her to do the same. “Now you try something,” he said, after they both were dressed.

A sort of nervous energy began to flood through Hermione. She knew she should probably start with a small spell but all she could think about was getting the hell out of there. Facing the wall with the tiny window, she shouted “Reducto!” and watched in satisfaction as a large hole blasted through, leading to the outside world.

The noise from the blast must have alerted the nurses, because Tom and Hermione could both hear footsteps padding down the hall. He turned her towards him, his face an unreadable mask.

“That was a nice bit of magic, Hermione, but hardly necessary. We’re going to apparate out together, do you understand? Can you apparate?”  

“O-of course I can!” She could hear the footsteps getting closer. “Tom, our magic…how long will it last?”

“24 hours.”

Hermione smiled. That was more than enough time to secure a wand. Tom grabbed her arm.

“I promised you a lifetime of freedom and I intend to keep that promise. We’ll find wands and clear both of our names. Are you ready?” She nodded that she was and he began to count down. “1...2…”

 _I’m coming for a visit soon, dear_ _Genevieve_ , Hermione thought wryly, as the nurse’s burst through her room’s door.

“3!”

And with a pop! they were gone.


End file.
